


Baby Loves That Way

by Hyacinthus



Category: Always Crashing in the Same Car (2007)
Genre: M/M, Triple Drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-10-28 19:12:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17793134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyacinthus/pseuds/Hyacinthus
Summary: Bill reminds Jim who he owes.





	Baby Loves That Way

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tish/gifts).



> Titled after the Bowie song.

“You’ve stepped in the shit now, haven’t you,” Bill says conversationally, looking at Jim’s skinny, furious body, shaking with barely controlled rage. Jim’s clutching the glass table so hard his knuckles are white, smearing his dirty fingerprints everywhere. 

“I’ve looked after you though, haven’t I. Since Eton, since Oxford, since you bungled your way into this slimy bloody job, and who was helping you along?” Bill’s walked his way around the table, fingers trailing on the surface. “I’ve been greasing palms and stomaching backroom meetings with cunting fucks, and you smile and wave at the media.”

“You’ve never appreciated it, Jimbo.” Bill nods his head downwards, and smiles when Jim fixes him with a glare so hate-filled it’s orgasmic. Jim’s fingers peel from the table one-by-one, popping off like leeches from skin, and he sinks down to his knees.

Bill’s always reserved the comfiest chair in a room for himself. He sits in it now, legs wide open, cock tenting his thousand pound suit trousers. “Walk.”

Jim’s stupid shuffle, the sound of the fabric his knees make on the carpet, his eyes inclined down - Bill could groan aloud. It takes agonizing seconds for Jim to reach him, staring at the outline of Bill’s cock as if it’s an adder. Bill moves his hand down, squeezes once, and the zipper is the loudest sound in the conference room. 

“You’re still useful for a suck?” It’s rhetorical, elevated by Jim’s harsh breathing, his hands fisted in his trousers. Jim wets his lips. Bill’s legs fall open further. His prick is so hard the head is wasp-stung red, pre-come beading at the tip. Slime from a slug, Jim said once in a fit of pique before coming to his better senses. 

Jim licks his lips again with his fat tongue. He leans in.


End file.
